


Duckshots

by AdaMarina



Category: Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures
Genre: I'll add tags if they come up, M/M, Most of these are in a DT17-PKNA crossover, Oneshot Collection?, The majority of these are DUno, Uno is an android, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:48:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaMarina/pseuds/AdaMarina
Summary: An infamous oneshot collection, mostly consisting of PKNA/DT17 DUno crossoversYou know those stories I post on tumblr? Well this is gonna be a collection of them all in one place! Hooray!





	1. New Years

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald's family ring in the New Year.

The New Year’s party was light and exciting. The children ran about, playing with their Christmas toys (Donald had subtly slid the gifts Santa left for them into their room, Scrooge never had to know). In one corner of the room Gyro brooded with a coffee, Fenton hovering nearby with juice (Scrooge would not allow him anything... strong) and Manny completely ignoring everyone, reading a magazine as he lounged on a beanbag chair Donald hadn’t even known was there.

Gladstone daintily held a glass of wine as he leaned against a wall, Fethry (also only allowed juice, despite being thirty) bouncing on his feet next to him. They were chatting about something Donald couldn’t catch over the music.

Mrs. Beakley and Scrooge were dancing, showing off their skills against random business guests Scrooge had been obliged to invite (including Glomgold, but most people ignored that while Duckworth kept a sharp eye on him).

Grandma and Gus were by the food table, and Mickey was off to the garden, Donald knew, with Minnie. Daisy was attempting to keep her nieces out of trouble (Santa, apparently, liked to give in to their mischief-making ways) and Goofy danced alone as Max and Pete stubbornly stared at a skating magazine, pretending not to notice the older dog stumbling around.

There was a crowd of other people, but none of them really mattered to Donald. High above them all a screen counted down, showing less than five minutes until midnight.

It was the only time Donald allowed the boys to be up so late; to ring in the new year.

“So,” he started conversationally as he handed Uno a drink, “what do you know about New Year’s traditions?”

Uno eyed the drink almost distastefully. “You know how I feel about alcohol,” he said, as if dodging the question.

“It’s not alcohol, it’s just juice,” Donald said, holding his own drink up for Uno to compare. “But that’s not the question I asked.”

“Everybody knows New Year’s traditions, Donald,” Uno told him, rolling his eyes. “I lived in the Tower, not under a rock.”

“That didn’t stop you from messing up Halloween.”

The droid’s face flushed red (and Donald was so thankful Everett had deigned to leave that ability when he created Uno’s body) as he remembered Halloween’s little mixup. “To be fair, no one here makes as big a deal about Halloween as they do Christmas and New Year’s,” he defended, pouting. Donald just laughed.

“It’s okay, Uno,” he assured, resting against his partner’s side. Uno just rolled his eyes again, but the little smile on his face told Donald he wasn’t annoyed. “Besides, I like the outcome.”

“Of course you do,” Uno laughed, lightly nudging Donald. “That’s the kind of person you are.”

“That could either be a compliment or an insult and I can’t figure out which one it is.”

“I’ll let you know when I decide.”

They fell into a comfortable quiet, watching the party all try to organize themselves as Duckworth announced the approach of midnight. It was only a few minutes away.

The family all seemed to converge on Uno and Donald’s location- for the children they had never spent a New Year’s apart from Donald, and for Scrooge he didn’t want to spend one more away from his family, and Beakley, Webby, Duckworth, Gladstone, Fethry, Grandma and Gus all followed suit.

In the corner, Fenton finally sat down beside Gyro, the chicken not making any complaint. Li’l Bulb jumped up on Manny’s shoulder. Glomgold tried to steal attention, but everyone’s eyes were now focused on the screen as it counted down the seconds.

A peacock latched themselves onto Gladstone’s arm, and the goose certainly wasn’t complaining.

“This has been a good year,” Dewey announced with a smile, and Donald knew it wasn’t completely true. It had its ups and its downs. The children found out about Della. Magica returned. They lost Lena.

Yet at the same time they had gained so much. The family was back together. There were no more secrets (well... at least about Della...). Donald finally, truly forgave Scrooge. Everything was falling back into place, becoming normal again. Donald had his friends again.

Donald got Uno back.

He looked over at his partner, who was watching the screen with a lazy smile. “It’s about three seconds ahead,” Uno informed him, though Donald wasn’t sure if he’d noticed his gaze or not.

“Of course you’d know that,” Donald chuckled as the whole party began counting down at ten. Uno grinned back at him, and still neither had even so much as sipped their drinks.

“I know everything.”

_“Five!”_

“No, you really don’t,” Donald laughed.

_“Four!”_

“Oh yeah?” It seemed to be a challenge, and Donald knew better than to accept any challenge from Uno...

_“Three!”_

“Yeah,” Donald plowed on, curiosity getting the better of him.

_“Two!”_

“Will ye shut up?” Scrooge hissed over at them, as if their whispers were disturbing his enjoyment of the countdown.

_“One!”_

Uno rolled his eyes as cheers rose up around them. Some people turned to their companions, sharing a sweet kiss as the grandfather clock chimed midnight. Others lifted their drinks in the air. Gyro and Fenton clinked their glasses together. Grandma clapped while Beakley rather unenthusiastically popped open a confetti can.

The music rose in volume even as the sound of confetti poppers filled the air.

All in the span of a few seconds.

Then Uno smirked at him, and Donald didn’t have a chance to figure out what it meant before Uno’s hand cupped his cheek and pulled him in for a sweet kiss, approximately three seconds after anyone else.

Donald immediately dropped his glass of wine, his now-free hand finding its way to Uno’s shoulder. Uno, ever the logical and thoughtful person, simply set his untouched glass of juice on the table next to them before sliding his arm around Donald, pulling him closer.

_“What are ye doin’ ye-”_

Scrooge’s outraged cry was interrupted by Gladstone and Fethry jerking forward, grabbing their uncle before he could raise his cane and attack the duck who dared touch his nephew, while Donald’s own nephew’s and niece made faces.

Donald broke the kiss first, laughing a bit. “If you were trying to prove a point, Uno, I don’t think that was the best way to do it.”

“Au contraire,” Uno said, letting go of Donald now as it looked like Scrooge was about to combust under his other nephews’ hold. “I think it was the perfect way to make a point.”

“And this time you didn’t even need any mistletoe!” Gladstone threw in, and at Scrooge’s strangled shriek they all laughed. Uno pouted.

“Come on, it was an easy mistake!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!


	2. A Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald's lost a lot of people in his life. All of his lives.

The silence echoing around the secret floor of the tower was deafening. Cold and lifeless, uncaring of the former hero’s presence- no one there to welcome him...

Donald walked across the room, a bag clutched in his hand. It had been years since Uno was shut down, but the recent disappearance of Donald’s sister brought it all crashing down on him again. It hurt- remembering Uno’s goodbye, remembering the last conversation he had with Della, remembering walking away from his uncle...

He was so alone. Uno was gone. Lyla got a journalist job elsewhere, without the timepolice to interfere. Xadhoom was gone. Mary Ann was alive, yet gone somewhere Donald could never know. The Raider and Odin Eidolon were two centuries out of reach. 

Now Della was gone, Donald left Scrooge behind, and he had three eggs swaddled up, comfortable and warm and unknowing of the agony their caretaker was going through, back at the apartment he had rented.

He was alone.

Taking a breath, Donald set the bag down on the dusty counter of Uno’s old interface and looked up where Uno would have once projected himself.

“Wish I could say everything’s been fine without you,” Donald said, though he didn’t. What he wished he could say was  _ hello, Uno, how are you today? Did you catch the new episode of Anxieties? They really pulled one on Chloe, huh? Yeah I knew you’d be upset about it. It’s okay, I’m sure they’ll fix it! _

But he couldn’t. Because Uno was gone.

Gone, just like everybody else.

He pulled a small glass and a bottle out of the bag. It wasn’t anything strong- he hadn’t had a drink since his short stint in the navy, between his retirement and Della’s invitation to adventure with them again.

Besides, he had to drive back home after this.

He looked up at Uno’s old interface as he poured only a small fraction of the cup. “Everything’s falling apart and I dunno what to do. But you would have,” he said, capping the bottle and picking the hardly-filled cup up. He swirled the liquid around, looking down at it.

He couldn’t see his reflection in it, like in those movies- it was a simple pale wine, almost clear- but he knew what he looked like. Dark circles under his eyes, swollen from crying, feathers in disarray and he was half convinced his shirt was inside out, though he couldn’t coordinate himself enough to even find a seam.

He lifted it up very slightly. “Here’s to my insane ability to lose everyone I love,” he said bitterly, drinking the wine in a single gulp. It was surprisingly bitter and burned, but Donald didn’t care.

_ Xadhoom. Uno. Mary Ann. Lyla. Now Della. _

It wasn’t fair.

His grip tightened on the glass and his breaths became short. His eyes stung with tears he’d thought he already shed. His chest hurt.

_ It’s not fair. _

He whipped around, a strangled scream ripping from his throat as he chucked the glass at the nearest wall. It shattered, falling down to the floor in a glittering, shimmering rain of broken shards too small to even hope to be fixed.

But Donald didn’t care. The tears burned tracks into his already-sticky feathers, and he slid to the ground and gripped his head. 

He had thought it was over. He had thought he’d only lose those whom  _ Paperinik _ loved.

Yet here he was. Donald Fauntleroy Duck, now twinless and still crying over his lost friends.

It had been years.

Why did losing Della bring it all back?

Why did she join them, in his memories?

Why did it feel like losing them all over again?

She was his twin. He should have only been thinking about her. Instead he sat in the middle of the 151st floor, sobbing as the weight of every single loss crashed down on him.

She was one of them in his mind. One of those he loved dearly, one of those he failed to save, one of those he failed to keep, one of those he could never reach again.

Uno. Xadhoom. Lyla. Mary Ann. Raider. Odin. Della.

One more name to add to his list of failures.


	3. Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald sees Della in her children, but Della sees Donald instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't DUno, this one is DT17 canon-compliant

Donald sees so much of Della in her children that it isn’t funny.

From the day they hatched, it was there. A spark in their eyes- in Dewey’s immediate attempt to crawl, in Huey’s curious gaze as he took in everything, in Louie’s strange fixations...

They’re so much like her.

They look like her, too. Fluffy, swoofy feathers on their head, bright blue eyes almost blinding to look at, soft rounded cheeks though they hadn’t yet grown into their bills... That was Della’s face he saw every time he looked at them.

As they grew up, he saw it all the more. Huey’s insatiable desire for knowledge, his need to learn more- to know everything- to be in control of the situation. Dewey’s insatiable desire for adventure- his risks, his pranks, his stubborn ability to make everything so much harder than it needs to be. Louie’s insatiable desire for more- always something more, more snacks, more money, more time, more space, more action- more more more.

Their good hearts. Her good heart. Her passion- her love- her loyalty-

He loved them with every inch of his soul.

They’re Della’s kids, through and through.

* * *

Della sees so much of Donald in her children, though she’s only known them for a short while.

Since the day they rescued her from space- from that strange time dilation she was trapped in- she could see it. A light in their eyes- in Dewey’s burning passion and capability, in Huey’s keen sense of when enough is enough, in Louie’s undying loyalty to his family.

They’re so much like him.

They even look like him too, though she figures that shouldn’t be a surprise- people always said she and Donald looked so much alike. Their feathers may have been longer than Donald’s, but she could see the slight curl- the bouncy, fluffy quality to it that told her, without a doubt, that they were her brother’s nephews. Their cheeks were rounded and soft, but some stray feathers revealed the beginnings of the infamous McDuck Fluff that she remembered so well Donald fought tooth and nail to get away from.

And their eyes... their eyes were that same familiar blue she so clearly remembered, looking up at her with the same glee, same amazement, same love that she grew up seeing every day.

They’re so much like him.

And the more she got to know them, the more of Donald she saw in them. In Huey’s confidence that family came first- that some risks just weren’t worth it- that sacrifices had to be made. In Dewey’s drive to know the truth- that honesty is important- that family meant being in it together. In Louie’s delightment at being part of something- a team, a family- something that always sticks together- in his determination to always have their backs.

Their good hearts. His good heart. His passion- his sensitive heart- his love- his loyalty-

His willingness to forgive.

She loved them with every part of her soul.

It hurt to realize they were Donald’s kids, through and through.


	4. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald teaches Uno something about dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a relic; my very first purely self-indulgent DUno fic, hnng

Uno knew all the moves.

He could perfectly move his feet in time with a beat, and he never forgot which foot went where. He moved in perfect harmony with the music, never even a half-second off.

Yet in that moment, Uno was sure he didn’t know how to dance.

Ever since he got his body, life had been one adventure after another. Learning the difference between “stepping” and “dancing” was just another one, he figured as he watched the rooster spin Donald around.

Neither’s form was perfect and no one watched them in awe like in the movies- everyone was too busy with their own dancing, after all- but Donald was having the time of his life, and it showed in the laughter on his face.

It was much the same with the others, too- everyone was just having _fun,_ no one taking the dancing too seriously. McDuck danced with Mrs. Elvira, the two talking casually as they did. Gladstone danced with a peacock Uno didn’t recognize, both somehow elegant while being out of step- and laughing. The children had linked hands and started spinning around, nowhere close to how the dance went.

Yes, Uno was sure _he_ didn’t really know how to dance.

His master stepped up beside Uno, gazing over the dancefloor. “Why not go dance, Uno?” he asked, and if Uno could blush in embarrassment as he noticed Everett glance towards Donald he probably would have. Thankfully, he couldn’t.

“I’m not sure I know how,” the android admitted. When Everett raised a brow, he explained, “I know all the steps, but I don’t know... _this.”_ He gestured towards the dancefloor, where everyone seemed so relaxed and less intent on staying on beat and more intent on just having a good time.

He didn’t know how to do that.

“Well, I’m sure you have someone who’d be happy to help,” Everett said as the song came to an end. Donald parted ways with the rooster and approached Uno, an odd gleam in his eye.

“Hey, Uno,” he said, nodding politely to Everett who simply nodded back before leaving the two of them be. “Wanna dance?” he asked, offering a hand to his friend.

“I’m not sure I know how,” Uno repeated, somewhat sheepishly this time. Donald didn’t look convinced, but Uno didn’t know how to explain it to him. Which was odd, considering Donald was more likely to understand such a feeling than his master was.

“Don’t worry, no one here’ll judge ya,” Donald said, glancing towards a group of people laughing together as they collided. “We’re just out here to have fun. Just follow my lead, yeah?”

Uno hesitated, but then he shrugged. “Alright, but I’m telling you I don’t really know how to dance.”

Donald just chuckled and grabbed his hand, pulling him out to the dancefloor. “That’s alright, half the people out here don’t either. But you’re you, so I have a feeling that’s not what you mean.”

“You know me well,” Uno agreed.

“Just don’t worry about being perfectly in time,” Donald advised. “It’s not a formal event, no need for perfection. Just pay attention to your partner and move with the music.”

“But moving with the music is being in time.”

“Dancing is about a lot more than putting your feet in the right place at the right time. It’s about energy.”

 _Energy?_ Uno blinked but didn’t protest as Donald pulled him in to the dance. He paid attention to Donald, like he’d been advised to, and followed his lead. His own movements were stiff and for some reason unsure, but Donald didn’t seem put off, just giving him an encouraging grin.

“Just relax and don’t overthink it.”

_Don’t overthink it?_

Another thing Uno wasn’t sure he could do- he was the most advanced AI in the world, he could process a million different thoughts in a single second, thinking was kind of his thing- but he just nodded.

He did let himself relax- he hadn’t even realized he’d tensed up when Donald’s arm went around him- and focused less on the music and its rhythm, more on Donald. And as he did, he found he misstepped just slightly- and so did Donald so it was hardly noticeable, but that didn’t matter, he could tell by the grin on Donald’s face.

Uno couldn’t help but grin back.

He suddenly understood.

So they continued dancing- out of time, missing a few steps here and there, but it was so fun, so natural, and he didn’t once think about the steps and just followed his friend’s lead while other people around them did the same, everyone smiling and laughing and no one caring about judgment.

Uno never cared about other people’s opinions. He certainly wasn’t about to start now.

And before long, the two ducks were laughing together, Gladstone bumping into Donald’s back as he danced on by and nearly sending them to the floor had Uno not caught his partner, and suddenly it seemed Uno was the one leading the dance but neither seemed to mind, just going with the flow.

And then the song was ending and they stopped, laughing together at how ridiculous they must have looked but not really caring because everyone else looked just as ridiculous as them and it was _fun._

They headed away from the dancefloor, immediately falling into a conversation about nothing as they headed for one of the tables. Neither of them saw the knowing looks Grandma Elvira and Uncle Scrooge sent their way.


	5. Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald has a bad feeling. Before anyone knows it, he's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before Last Crash of the Sunchaser when we didn't know what the Spear of Selene was, so this takes place in a universe where the Spear was an artifact, not a rocket.
> 
> Also, this chapter features: Gladstone, AKA Cloverleaf

“I feel like I’m gonna die.”

He had said it very suddenly, and Della tensed up.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed, though it sounded off as she turned to look at him with a fake smile plastered on her face. “You’re not gonna die.”

Her hands trembled slightly. Donald realized he upset her.

“I know,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. “It’s just my paranoia,” he laughed it off, and Della laughed with him.

Both of their laughs were hollow. They both knew he was lying, but neither said so.

They didn’t talk about it again.

Scrooge was similar, yet so so different.

Donald hadn’t meant to say it. The adventure they’d been on had turned bad, a disaster and a half, but in the end Scrooge got his gold anyway. Donald, on the other hand, stood at the rail of the ship on their way back home, hands tightly holding the metal as he stared down at the water.

A shiver went down his spine. His heart beat too fast. He could feel it more than ever.

“What’s wrong, lad?” Scrooge had asked in a rare show of concern.

It slipped out. “I feel like I’m gonna die,” he all but whispered as the waves broke under the weight of the ship.

Scrooge dismissed it, patting his back. “Don’t worry, lad. Today was a fluke- you’re not going tae die.”

It was casual, and in a way comforting, but Donald only felt cold.

He could feel it seeping into his bones.

* * *

 “Uno, if I die, would you send my family a message?”

It was out of the blue, and he clearly caught his AI friend off guard.

However, Uno didn’t deny that Donald could die- not like Della and Scrooge did. He knew how dangerous Donald’s jobs were.

So he agreed. Honestly, though, he didn’t expect Donald would die- he’d been through a lot, fighting hostile aliens and pirates from other time periods and creatures from other dimensions… It was almost laughable to think Donald Duck, Paperinik, would die.

But he still recorded the messages for Donald. He didn’t voice his thoughts, just did as his friend asked- he could see this was important to Donald, after all.

He never thought he’d have to send those messages.

 _“Gladstone, I don’t have much time,”_ Donald had said as soon as Gladstone picked up the phone. Gladstone was, though Donald hated to admit, the only person he could trust with this- Scrooge, as much as Donald loved and admired him, was a busy businessman, Della was a mother now, Grandma was too old, Fethry too flighty… the list could go on.

Gladstone was, to a degree, trustworthy.

 _“Don’t say anything,”_ Donald instructed before Gladstone could even answer. _“I feel like I’m dying. And I am. Just not the way I thought I would. Don’t say anything, I don’t have much time. Soon you’ll get a message from me- when you do, you’ll know I’m gone. You’ll know everything then. There are special instructions for you- not Della, not Scrooge, you. I know it’s strange, but they’re too busy and you’re the only one I can trust with this.”_

“Donald-” Gladstone tried, but Donald barrelled on.

 _“When you get the message, remember; one.”_ It made no sense to Gladstone, but he had no chance to ask. _“I’m sorry. I want you all to know I love you, and that’s why I’m doing this.”_

Then he hung up, and Gladstone desperately tried calling back- this joke wasn’t funny, he thought, hoping it was just a joke.

Donald didn’t answer.

* * *

_Scrooge, I’ve taken the Spear of Selene. I’m sorry._

_Donald._

Scrooge didn’t know what to do or say when he found the note. He hired the best people to find Donald, but they never did.

He didn’t know if he could have stopped it- maybe, he wondered, if he had paid Donald’s words a little more attention, a little more merit…

Della was destroyed. She cried. She blamed herself. She threw herself into being the best mother she could be, and there were no more adventures. Adventure, she told Scrooge bitterly, took her brother away. She wasn’t going to lose her children, too.

Gladstone was oddly quiet, grief stricken, knowing he was the last person Donald spoke to before he disappeared. Knowing that there were final messages coming their way. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the others.

He was the only one unsurprised when a small package showed up on Scrooge’s doorstep. Scrooge swooped in to grab it as soon as he told him, “It’s from Donald.”

There were three discs. One for the whole family, one for Della’s children, and one for Gladstone.

For some reason, they all agreed they would only watch the one marked for family, and Della stored the disc for her children away to show them when they were older. Gladstone just held on to his own, as if it were Donald himself.

They put the disc into the DVD player, calling the rest of their family to the mansion (many were already there, and the rest already in Duckburg for Donald’s upcoming funeral- empty casket and all), and together as a family they watched as Donald’s face appeared on the screen.

Grandma cried.

_“I’m sorry,” Donald said on the recording, watching them intently. The background was metallic._

Scrooge recognized Ducklair Tower- barely. Whoever now owned the place seemed to have done some renovations.

_“I don’t know what’s happened or why. I just have this terrible feeling in my bones, like something’s gonna happen. I don’t want to leave, but if I do I’ve recorded these messages for you._

_“Grandma,” he began, looking down as if almost ashamed. “I know this isn’t how you wanted my life to go- you saw potential in me when no one else did. I’m sorry I wasted it, but please know I have no regrets. Life was fun- I’m glad I had the chance to see the world! I’ve experienced things other ducks can only dream of. I know it wasn’t the life you wanted for me, but it was still a full life, and I loved every moment of it._

_“Uncle Scrooge. I don’t know what happened, but just don’t blame yourself, okay? There was really nothing you could do. There was nothing anyone could do. I’m grateful that you took Della and me on your adventures. The things I saw were more than I could have ever hoped for, and I’m not angry at you._

_“Della.” His entire demeanor changed as he addressed his sister, becoming so much more tender. “My twin. You’ve been there for me since we hatched. We’ve been on many adventures, but this… this is one adventure we can’t take together. I’m so glad you’re excited about your kids. You’ll be an amazing mother, I know it! Just don’t do anything I’d do- it’s no one’s fault this happened. Not yours, especially. It’s just one of those things that happen. I’m happy to have spent my life by your side, and I wouldn’t have changed a single second of it._

The video went on to address every single member of Donald’s family- from Fethry and Abner to Gus, to Aunt Matilda and Uncle Ludwig.

And then it finally reached Gladstone.

_Donald’s expression changed, looking slightly annoyed. “Gladstone, you know you’ve been a pain in my side since we were children, just like I’ve been a pain in yours. But just know that doesn’t mean I don’t love or trust you. We’re still family, and family helps family. Remember that. Whatever happened most likely isn’t your fault either, and even if it is, don’t blame yourself. At the end of the day, you’re my cousin, and nothing will change that.”_

_He straightened up a bit, staring out at them without seeing them. “Every single one of you, no matter how much I yelled or claimed otherwise, I love you. And whatever has happened, I want you to know that. And I will never blame any of you._

_“Goodbye.”_

Then it was over. It was long- so long, as he’d addressed everyone individually, but it didn’t feel long enough.

Gladstone stepped out of the room, wiping his own tears away, while Della desperately played the video again. He wanted to stay, to hear his cousin once again, but he needed to watch the video addressed only to him.

* * *

 As soon as he was composed enough, Gladstone slipped the disc into the player.

_“Gladstone,” Donald’s face immediately appeared, looking tense. “If this is you, select the correct symbol on screen.”_

Six symbols appeared on the screen; a clover, an anchor, a fish, a house, a tree and a face. A timer slowly counted down in the corner. Gladstone internally panicked; what did that mean?

_“You only have two chances to get this right. The disc’s contents will erase if you get it wrong twice, but you should know the answer. I’d have given it to you.”_

He panicked more and stared hard at the six symbols. He grabbed the remote, not sure what he was doing.

He could pick at random, he knew- he had a pretty good chance at getting it right. But he didn’t want to risk it- not with this.

Not with whatever secret message Donald left for him.

Then Donald’s words suddenly echoed back in his head. _Remember; one,_ he had said. But none of that meant anything to him. None of these images said “one.”

His eyes scanned over them, desperate, before it hit him.

It wasn’t any of the symbols. Quickly he switched the remote over to the timer and silently celebrated his thinking; what other reason would he be able to interact with the timer if he was wrong?

He watched the numbers slowly count down.

_6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1-_

He clicked.

_The screen went white for a moment, and then Donald was back on screen. “Thank goodness you remembered,” he almost laughed. “I hope I actually told you the clue before… whatever happened, happened. Knowing you, your remote might have fallen and accidentally clicked the right place at the right time. I will haunt you if that happened, by the way,” he warned, glaring out at Gladstone._

Gladstone let out a breathless laugh, wiping a stubborn tear away. Some things never changed.

_“If you had the same address for more than a few days, I could have sent this to you instead of Uncle Scrooge and we could have avoided that dangerous minigame,” Donald pointed out, clearly irritated. “Now that I’m sure it’s you,” he continued, “I want you to go to Ducklair Tower. Don’t go in the front, they’ll stop you if you do. Go around the back of the building to a service entrance. It won’t be locked. Go to the nearest elevator and make sure you’re in it alone. Don’t do anything. I promise this isn’t a wild goose chase,” Donald cracked a smile on screen, though he didn’t seem amused by his own jest. “Just trust me, the way I’m trusting you.”_

Then the video went blank. Gladstone tried rewinding it, only to find that now there was nothing on it.

Whatever was in that tower, Gladstone realized, Donald didn’t want anyone else to know about.

* * *

He stood in shock as he took in the floor. It was large, with one-way mirror glass. It was nothing like he was expecting, and slowly he walked through the room, looking around.

The goose couldn’t even explain what he was seeing. _Donald knew about this?_ Sure, Gladstone knew Donald was the caretaker between his, Della and Uncle Scrooge’s adventures back when Scrooge owned the building, but it had been years since then. Heck, Gladstone was willing to wager it had been at the very least four years, if not five.

“You’re Gladstone Gander?”

He shrieked, whipping around. No one was there with him.

“Wow, I can tell you’re related to Donald.” The voice sounded rather dead despite its joke, and Gladstone watched as a head formed in a giant green orb in the middle of the room.

“Wh-what- huh, you-” he stammered, staring wide-eyed at the orb.

The orb looked less than impressed. “I’m One,” it- he?- introduced it- him?- self. “Donald preferred to call me Uno, but I’d appreciate it if you refrained from doing the same.”

Gladstone blinked, noticing a strange tone in the orb’s voice. It sounded almost angry. Or upset. Like it was doing its best to deal with some sort of pain…

“What… are you?” the goose finally asked, approaching One.

“An artificial intelligence,” One answered simply, seeming to observe Gladstone. “I don’t know why Donald trusted you with this, from what I’ve heard you should have been the last choice, but it is what it is.”

“What is what it is?”

One turned away from him and panels on the wall opened up, revealing-

“The Duck Avenger’s suit?!”

“Paperinik,” One corrected almost crossly, closing the panels again. “Donald didn’t want to leave Duckburg without a hero. You will not be becoming the new Paperinik, I refuse to allow that, but he wished for you to take his place.”

“Wait,” Gladstone uttered, not sure he could take any more surprises that day. “Donald is… was… the Duck Avenger?”

“Paperinik. And yes.”

The goose took a breath, turning to look at One. “Can you tell me what happened?” he finally asked. “Not about… Paperinik, but with Donald. Where is he? What happened?” He felt his eyes burn, his chest ache.

Would this… artificial intelligence even know?

Amazingly, though, as One looked at him, its- his?- synthetic face seemed to soften. It- he, Gladstone corrected, believing that expression, that tone, to be way too human to be anything but- apparently realized that Gladstone was hurting, too.

His next words were gentler. “The artifact that he, Della and Scrooge retrieved on their last adventure was cursed,” One explained, a dull claw-like hand popping out of the floor and pushing Gladstone into a chair that seemed to come from nowhere. “He asked me to look at its history, and I did. Turns out, the spear corrupts those who hold it- and anyone around them. Donald realized it would hurt not only himself, but you, your uncle Scrooge, Della and her children- and anyone else you were close to.”

“So it _is_ Scrooge’s fault,” Gladstone all but whispered.

“In my opinion? Yes.” One turned to a wall of screens, prompting Gladstone to look over as well. “But Donald loves his family more than anything, so he took the spear anyway.”

_The screens lit up with Donald’s face again. He seemed to be in a vehicle of some kind, a beautifully carved blue spear behind him._

_“Hey Uno,” Donald’s voice echoed around the room. “Y’know, I left messages for everyone else- even Panchito and Jose. But I didn’t leave a message for you.”_

_“I’m right here, Donald,” One’s voice echoed in the vehicle, though it was soft. Almost a whisper, if Gladstone had to say. He clearly knew Donald wasn’t coming back. “You don’t need to leave me a message.”_

_“Will you record anyway?”_

_“I already am.”_

_“Okay. Thanks. I’m sorry it ends this way,” Donald started, eyes focused ahead- the windscreen, probably. “But… it’s for the best. You know that, right? We don’t even know how this thing would affect an artificial intelligence, even less_ you. _You’re too… human, y’know? You have a conscious like us. And this thing- it twists our consciousness, yeah? So… I’m doing this as much for you as them._

_“Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but over the last six years you’ve really become my best friend, and I don’t even want to consider what could happen to you in the downfall.”_

_The spear behind Donald began glowing brightly and Donald grimaced, gritting his teeth._

_“Also, if Everett comes back around, tell him, uh, I’m sorry he had to lose this car. I just… need to make sure this thing’s gone, out of reach, forever.”_

_“Donald-” One’s voice started, but Donald held up a hand, cutting the AI off._

_“Everyone dies eventually, Uno. I have no regrets. Thank you for staying by my side, even when I was being an idiot. The last few years have been… honestly, the best of my life. And for the record, I do too.”_

Whatever he meant, Gladstone wasn’t sure- probably referencing an earlier conversation, one that Gladstone wasn’t privy to. In the recording, there was the sound of slamming- through the window Gladstone could for just a split second see dark, greenish-blue water.

The ocean.

The video cut off then, though Gladstone had a feeling it wasn’t the end. Whatever conversation followed, clearly Uno- One- whoever wanted to keep to himself.

“He asked me before he took the spear if I’d make you into a hero, too. Della is a mother now, and Scrooge is an old moneybag, and he was hoping he could trust you.” One turned to him again, eyes narrowed sharply. “If his trust is misplaced, be warned, I _can_ and _will_ erase your memory with absolutely no hesitation.”

Gladstone held his hands up defensively. He swallowed roughly past the lump in his throat and the hole in his chest. He knew, now, that One was actually who heard Donald’s last words.

Maybe he was even there when Donald died.

It hurt to even consider and he dared not ask. It was obvious the AI cared greatly for Donald. He was hurting, too. Gladstone didn’t want to make it worse.

“Of course,” Gladstone agreed, silently bidding his carefree lifestyle adieu. This was Donald’s first, last and only request of him- his _final_ request. How could he possibly say no? The city needed a hero, and Duck Avenger… Paperinik…

 _Donald_ was gone.

One watched him critically for a few seconds before nodding, seemingly satisfied. “We’ll begin training immediately Sunday.”

 _Sunday._ The day after Donald’s empty-casket funeral. Gladstone swallowed and nodded.

“Stay still while I measure you, I’ll have something made by the time you come back. Also, think of a name. Come back Sunday, one o’clock PM, and don’t be late.”

On Saturday, as Gladstone stared at that dark oak casket, he wondered if One was watching somehow.

He didn’t doubt it. He dropped a rose into the grave on top of the casket, as did the rest of the family, and stepped back as the burying began.

He wiped his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would become Cloverleaf.

* * *

 Ten years passed before anyone knew it.

Gladstone watched as Scrooge hugged his nephews and adopted niece, and Della, laughing, scolded him about spoiling them. The homemade cake- made by Scrooge and not Mrs. Beakley, the cake Donald had spent years perfecting the ingredients to- was always a hit with the ducklings, and a special treat. They always got excited for it, since it was reserved only for the most special of occasions… and that day was a special occasion.

It was Della and Donald’s birthday.

The first few years were hard- for three years they all refused to even acknowledge it, Della moreso than anyone else. The fourth year, however, they finally gathered their courage and visited Donald’s grave, cleaning it up a little (though Scrooge had hired people to take care of the grave once a week all year long) and leaving Donald’s favourite flowers (Gladstone had learned they were his favourite from One). It wasn’t until the boys were six and asking why their mom never had a party that they started celebrating again, grinning and bearing it.

“ _All okay, Gladstone?”_ One’s voice echoed through his earpiece. _“Your heartrate’s picked up.”_

“Just thinking is all,” he answered quietly, so as not to gain his family’s attention. He gazed at the banner on the wall, smiling sadly.

That was the first year the banner was put up.

The banner that had been made by Grandma Duck for the twins’ very first birthday, and used every year until Donald disappeared.

The banner that proudly proclaimed, _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DONALD & DELLA. _

He swallowed. It had been ten long years that that banner had been stored, oh so carefully, in the attic. It looked a little older, but well preserved.

It was like a family treasure, just like everything else that was Donald’s.

He wiped his eyes.

One was silent.

“It’s hard, losing someone you love,” Gladstone whispered, watching as his grandmother brought out the homemade ice cream. She set it down, and then so carefully set not one, but two pairs of numbers on the cake, both reading _34._

 _“I know,”_ One agreed without hesitance, and Gladstone knew he did. Probably the only people who missed Donald more than One did were Grandma, Della and Scrooge.

After coming to know the AI as well as he did, Gladstone knew he didn’t miss Donald nearly as much as One did. It kind of hurt to realize he hadn’t treasured Donald- his own _cousin-_ nearly as much as One did… and One had only known him for six years.

Gladstone didn’t like thinking about it, so he didn’t.

Della blew the first set of candles out, and there was a moment of silence before she said, “For you, Donnie.” She blew the second set out, and Gladstone just barely saw through her hair as the tears started to fall.

Scrooge and Grandma wiped their own eyes.

“Mom,” Dewey started, tugging on her sleeve in concern, “why are you crying?”

Della picked her son up while Mrs. Beakley swooped in to serve the cake and ice cream.

“Well, you see, Dewey,” she said, stepping out of Mrs. Beakley’s way. “Today isn’t just my birthday. It’s your Uncle Donald’s birthday, too.”

The children’s eyes widened. Gladstone laughed, though it hurt. Della, Scrooge, Gladstone and Grandma hadn’t mentioned Donald a lot in the beginning, it just hurt too much, but as the boys got older and more adventurous they began telling them more about their uncle.

Now it was so normal to talk about Donald, none of them cried anymore… well, that wasn’t always true.

“You see, we were twins. Together from the start, just like you three.”

 _“I miss him,”_ One admitted in Gladstone’s ear. Gladstone nodded.

“I know.”

“So today, instead of mourning the life he lost, we’re gonna celebrate the life he lived. Okay?”

“Okay,” the children all chorused, nodding in understanding.

Sometimes Gladstone wanted to tell them all the truth. About the part of Donald they never knew. About just how brave he was, how often he saved them all- how he put his all into protecting them. How selfless he was the entire time.

The rest of the time, he selfishly coveted the knowledge. One often did the same with memories- some he was willing to show Gladstone but others he wished to keep to himself. Gladstone wondered if it made them terrible people- but Scrooge and Della knew a part of Donald Gladstone never knew. It was only fair that he and One kept Paperinik to themselves, wasn’t it?

The cake was delicious- Scrooge had spent the last few years trying to perfect it, though it wasn’t quite like Donald’s- and the kids loved it. They sang happy birthday to their mom and Uncle Donald. Gladstone cried with Della, and Scrooge stood in the back trying to pretend he wasn’t crying, too. Grandma spoke with Beakley- she was so much better at handling grief than the rest of them, having lost all of her children at a relatively young age. She’d done her crying, and though she still had her days she was a strong woman.

Gladstone loved his family, and now that Donald was gone he cherished it so much more than he used to.

He wished they could have Donald back. Maybe Paperinik and Cloverleaf would make a good team.

“Boys,” Della announced after the party was over, “I think it’s time for you to meet your Uncle Donald.”

Gladstone blinked, confused. “What do you mean, mom?” Huey asked, clearly not sure how to take this. “Isn’t he… y’know, gone?”

 _“The video,”_ One reminded Gladstone. _“The one he made for them. They weren’t hatched at the time. A shame… he’d have loved them. Webby, too.”_

Della stood up and led her sons to the living room. The others followed but hung in the back, watching as Della pulled the disc out of her pack and slipped it into the DVD player, just like all those years ago.

“Your uncle left something for you,” she told them, smiling at her boys. “You weren’t hatched at the time, but he loved you so much already.”

Donald’s face appeared on the screen. Gladstone now recognized, with ease, the 151st floor of Ducklair Tower (One had stubbornly kept it the same, with only a few small changes over the decade Donald was gone).

_“Hello, boys,” Donald greeted with a smile. It was a soft smile. So full of love. “If Della doesn’t change her mind after I record this, your names are Huebert, Deuteronomy and Louis, right?”_

Della let out a guilty giggle- Dewey’s name was actually Dewford now, though Deuteronomy was still his middle name.

_“I’m not sure, my sister’s notorious for changing her mind at the last second,” Donald laughed. “You’ve found that out firsthand, I’m sure._

_“I don’t know if I was there when you hatched,” Donald admitted. “If I wasn’t I’m sorry. If I was, I have no doubt it was the most magical moment of my life.”_

“It was,” Della whispered, hugging her boys who were looking, enraptured, at their Uncle. They didn’t even seem confused or off-put by his voice, though clearly this was the first time any of them had seen a recording of him. The recording was so good, so high definition, it was almost like he was right there, merely an arm length away.

An arm length none of them could close. Not even One.

_“I want you boys to know that you’re part of the best family in the world,” Donald went on, looking out intently at his audience. “No one loves stronger or works harder than a Duck or McDuck. The Ganders, eh, but even ol’ Gladdy has a heart, y’know?”_

Gladstone let out a raspy laugh. His throat was closing up again- seeing Donald there, talking to the nephews who would never meet him…

One was silent. He’d seen this before.

_“Be good to your mom and Uncle Scrooge. Grandma, Fethry and Gladstone, too. They’ll have your backs, no matter what kind of trouble you get yourselves into. I could always count on them. Well, for the most part- don’t expect Uncle Scrooge to give you any money.”_

They all chuckled at that one, glancing at the somewhat-sheepish Scotsman.

_Donald smiled again. “This world is a big place, and I’m sure you’ll see most of it before too long. I’ve seen it. It’s amazing, and it’s worth every moment away from home, I promise. But home is still where your life is- it’s where your family and your friends are. Don’t forget that._

_“I’ve often said I have no regrets. I’ve seen things others can only wish to see- things that make a short life worth it. But I guess, really, I do have one regret; that I won’t be there while you grow up.” Donald glanced aside. “Della wanted me to teach you three how to sail, and how to swim, and how to cook if Grandma didn’t get to you first. I’m sorry I never got to teach you those things, but I have no doubt you boys are doing just fine. You have full, happy lives- I know you do. I know our family.” He smiled again, seemingly focusing on the triplets. “Just remember to live in the moment- get off the phone, turn off the cameras, and just live it. You’ll find you make so many more memories that way._

_“And know that no matter what has happened, no matter who you three have become- and if you have any brothers or sisters after I’m gone… I want you to know that I love you, and I always will._

_“Oh, and lastly,” Donald added, raising a finger-_

Gladstone easily realized he was stopping One from cutting off the recording, though no one else knew that.

 _“Keep this in mind. Maybe Della or Scrooge or even Gladstone have taught you this, but; family helps family_ . _If there’s no one else you can turn to, you can bet you can turn to them. And, one day when you’re older, I hope they can turn to you. Have each others’ backs._

_“And Uncle Scrooge, if you’re watching this too, before you call me a hypocrite just remember this is the way things had to be._

_“I love you all. Goodbye.”_

Donald waved on the screen before the video ended. Louie quickly turned to Della.

“That was Uncle Donald?”

“Sure was,” Della confirmed, smiling at her sons. “I think you would have loved him. He was the bravest duck in the world… and he loved so much.”

 _“Much more than you know,”_ One said, sounding sad.

“He’s so cool,” Webby said, gazing in awe at the blank TV screen.

 _Much more than you know,_ Gladstone thought to himself, closing his eyes. _If only we could save him- show him how much we all loved him…_

He wished for a miracle.


	6. "Please Stay"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fight did not go the way either of them expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Heavily hinted character death

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

“Donald!”

Uno caught Donald as he fell, carefully lowering him to the ground.

“Donald?” The duck in question peered up at Uno, his vision somewhat hazy from pain. But he didn’t feel it as much as he probably should have. Uno was staring at him, eyes wide and much more afraid than Donald ever thought possible for his partner.

He looked down at his side and pulled his hand away, seeing the red on his feathers. Briefly he wondered what happened, but as his eyes scanned over the abandoned battlefield- the smoke rising from the craters, the twisted remnants of the PK jet, the blackened stone- the struggle with his newest enemy came back.

What happened to the strange girl, he wondered? He’d felt the sharp pain in his side- deep, painfully so- and all his other pains fled, and... so did she.

She was gone.

Uno was there.

He focused on Uno again- tears had begun to form in the Droid’s eyes, and Donald knew his friend’s scans only bore bad news.

He could feel it. The numbness was already taking over.

“Just- hang on,” Uno was saying, lifting his gaze up to peer through the smoke almost desperately. “I’ll- I’ll go get help-”

It was useless. They were all alone in the middle of a desert, far away from any roads. The closest town was over twenty-five miles away, and the PK Jet was totalled. Uno was an android, he could do some pretty inhuman feats- but he couldn’t move that fast.

Donald knew Uno would never make it in time.

Uno was about to lay him on the ground, but Donald reached out to him and grabbed his arm. “N-no,” he gasped, it was hard to breathe through the pain- part of him was sure his lungs had been hit- and the smoke. Uno looked down at him again.

“Donald- I have to- you’ll-”

“You’ll never m... make it in time,” Donald forced himself to say, closing his eyes to brace against the pain. God, it would be so much easier to just say nothing, but... “Stay...”

“I can’t,” Uno whispered, voice shaking. He knew Donald was right- of course he did, Donald was dying right then and the wound was too big to mend, especially since the worst of it was internal. But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help but deny it. “I, I have to get someone...”

“Please,” Donald almost begged, tearing up. He hated this. He was so scared. But- he didn’t want to be alone. It would be worse. “Please stay.”

Uno’s arms tightened around him. “I’m sorry,” Uno said, though he wouldn’t look at Donald anymore. “I’m sorry. I- I should have- I could have... I...”

Donald let go of Uno’s arm and lifted his hand to Uno’s face. He felt weak- way too weak to even try and turn his friend’s gaze back to him- but Uno reached up and grabbed his hand in one of his own, stilling Donald’s trembling.

“Stop that,” he almost hissed. “We both knew i-it could happen.” His breathing was painful, harsh. “It wasn’t your fault. Just- please... don’t... don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone...”

_Please stay with me._

Uno knew his friend was fading fast. Equally he knew, if he had left, Donald would die out there- alone. And Uno would have run twenty-five miles, knowing deep down he had left his best friend- his partner- to die all alone out in a desert on the off chance that he would make it in time.

He closed his eyes and hugged Donald closer to him.

Why was this happening?

Why?

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.


	7. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was one room Donald never wanted the kids to discover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before Shadow War and definitely before Last Christmas, so some of this might not line up with canon.
> 
> Anyway I didn't post this yesterday because I was sick in bed and not on my computer lmao

If there was one room in the mansion Donald never wanted the children to find, it was his own.

More specifically, it was his _closet_ he never wanted them to find.

When he’d seen both his and Della’s doors had been taken out and walled over, he had felt some confidence that the children would never see the evidence of his past. They’d never discover the relics of the life that Donald had left behind to raise them.

He should have known they’d find a way.

* * *

Huey was the one who noticed the cracked drywall after the earthquake.

“Oh yeah,” Webby had laughed when they asked her about it, “Uncle Donald’s bedroom is on the other side of that door. Granny told me herself! I’ve never been in there, mind you, the vents are too secure, but it looks pretty cool from what I saw.”

“Why is Uncle Donald’s room walled over?” Louie asked, peering at the cracked drywall over what was once a doorway. If he looked close enough, he realized, he could see a faint line where the false wall met the real wall. How had they missed that the many times they’d run down this hall?

“I dunno,” Webby shrugged. “Uncle Scrooge never really talked about him, either.”

“I guess he didn’t want a reminder of what he lost,” Dewey suggested, running his hand over a matching, yet uncracked, patch of drywall. He had no doubt that it had been Della’s room, set happily next to her brother’s.

“Mrs. Beakley’s at the grocery store,” Huey hummed, opening up a vent and peering inside. “And Uncle Scrooge is at the Moneybin. Duckworth’s in the garden and Uncle Donald’s at work...”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Louie asked.

“No one will hear it.”

A silent moment passed between them before they all nodded and climbed in, making their way towards their uncle’s room.

Huey didn’t know what to expect. What they found certainly wasn’t it.

* * *

The room was large, just as every other room in the mansion was, and was painted in a way the kids never imagined it would be- and then it really set in for them that this was where their uncle grew up. This was his childhood.

The carpet on the floor was a swirling mixture of different blues, some fading into each other and others with hard edges, and the walls were painted similarly. It was almost a trip, looking at the wall and feeling like they were looking out upon miles and miles of ocean in every direction, until their eyes lifted up enough to find a horizon line with a sky-blue sky. The ceiling was even painted blue, giving the distinct feeling of being under an open sky.

One wall was different- the wall the bed, an old four poster with its navy and gold drapes still shut, was set against was painted like an island, the rug set under the bed the same beige-tan of the ‘sand.’

“Uncle Donald really liked the ocean,” Dewey commented as Huey flicked on the light. An old desk in the corner held the half-constructed remains of a bottleship, and two shelves above the desk were covered in completed ship models ranging from large to small. The desk also held a stack of books and a map hanging half-off, the books holding it in place.

Webby peered excitedly at the map. There were red circles and X-es all over it. It was clearly some sort of planning.

“It was probably done when he was a kid,” Huey said reasonably, peering out through the dusty curtains only to discover instead of tall windows, he was looking out onto a balcony. The balcony overlooked the rolling hills behind the manor. “They just never changed it as he grew up.”

A dresser drawer stood beside a door, its dark red oak a stark contrast to the blues of the room. Louie didn’t like it- it didn’t match the room. It was clearly something that was bought for adult-Donald, rather than just a remain of his childish nature. At least the bed kept with the blue theme- the dresser threw it completely out the window.

“They might have been about to change things when it all fell apart,” Louie suggested, wiping the dust off of the dresser. The alarm clock was still on, its numbers flashing 4:35 in the morning. It was a good ten to eleven hours ahead- a power outage, if Louie had to guess. It was old and honestly Louie was surprised it still worked. “Maybe.”

“Pretty sure Uncle Donald was planning on moving out,” Huey said, pointing out the abandoned boxes in the corner. Some were labelled things like, “Movies,” “Mementos,” and those sorts of things. Some of them looked half packed before being abandoned, as if their uncle had just up and left without any of his old belongings. A quick glance inside the dresser showed old clothes- mostly pajamas- still inside. They smelled of mothballs and dust.

Dewey wandered over to the bookshelf, looking at the abandoned books. “So it’s just an old bedroom,” he sighed, disappointed. It wasn’t even that interesting- the bookshelf had book upon book, and one downturned picture frame. There were fiction books, comic books, books in other languages (Dewey dismissed these as being books Scrooge stored in Donald’s room), leatherbound journals, history books, math books, random textbooks, and such.

Boring stuff.

Webby was the one who opened the closet.

“Bedrooms can tell you a lot about a person!” she argued, eyes scanning over the clothes in Donald’s old closet. She frowned. “I’m... pretty sure the house plans have this as a walk-in...”

The triplets joined her, peering boredly into the closet. A little unexpectedly, it was stuffed full of clothes- sailor suits among them, but not the only things. There was at least one pink monstrosity.

Huey’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as his gaze fell to below the clothes. There was a dresser-like thing behind the clothes, blocking the view of the wall behind it.

The red-clad duckling darted forward, shoving his body into the moth-scented clothes. The hangers slid off the rail, the shirts collapsing on top of Huey, but he quickly (with the help of the other three) unburied himself and looked into the closet.

It was a walk-in. And Donald tried to hide it.

“What the-” The breath seemed to leave Louie as he stared into the closet, and Huey slowly stood up while Webby pushed the small dresser aside.

There weren’t any clothes in the rest of the closet. Except one.

A costume.

It was in the corner, and Huey almost missed it. It was red, blue and black.

“That’s Paperinik’s costume,” Dewey whispered, as if speaking too loudly would get them caught.

“I didn’t know Uncle Donald was a nerd,” Louie laughed uneasily as his eyes fell on the shield settled on a little shelf beside the costume. He had a terrible feeling it wasn’t a cosplay costume.

“Guys!” Huey swallowed a gasp as he turned to face Webby, who was staring wide-eyed at a staff. Its white wood was carved and a rosegold head was held in place by a silver band, a blue crystal orb held in place by the rosegold. The orb seemed to swirl and glow, and Huey could feel a strange, dangerous energy rushing through the air as Dewey instinctively reached out to grab it.

“Don’t!” Huey hissed, grabbing his brother’s wrist before he could grab it. “Don’t you know anything about magic? You’re not supposed to grab someone else’s staff!”

“Uncle Donald’s staff...?” Dewey asked slowly.

Huey paused.

The staff was in Donald’s closet.

His eyes scanned over everything. A small shelf full of little knick-knacks seemed to stand out among more books- _spellbooks,_ he realized with a start- and strange little weapons, each one carefully set away as well as a teenager could have hidden something in his guardian’s house. A cauldron even housed a stack of books, and why Uncle Donald had a cauldron he didn’t know. A starchart on the wall seemed to twinkle down at them as it charted itself, and a lunar chart was settled under it. A quick calculation told Huey that both matched the stars and moons as they were at that moment.

“Uncle Donald’s a wizard?” Dewey finally asked.

“Uncle Donald’s Paperinik?” Louie countered.

“Was,” Webby corrected, rather sadly. “This stuff hasn’t been touched in a decade.”

Huey looked back at the knick-knacks. They weren’t really just knick-knacks he came to realize. A picture of Donald and a blonde lady. A small badge with a green face on it. A small tube that Huey had a feeling was much more dangerous than it appeared. A card with a strangely holographic-looking surface. A postcard signed by Stefan Vladuck (a bygone photographer of the past, if Huey recalled). A small square chip.

Those were the things on the top shelf. The things that seemed to be most prominent in his little collection.

It took Huey a moment to realize it was a memorial.

“This is the life he gave up to raise us, huh?” Huey asked quietly, looking back at his brothers.

Their uncle was a magician. Their uncle was a hero.

Who knew where he’d be now if it weren’t for them.

* * *

Donald came home from losing yet another job. No matter how much he insisted that the photocopier exploding wasn’t his fault, everyone seemed to instinctively know something wasn’t quite right about him- that it _was_ his fault. They couldn’t know it was his fault because of all of his suppressed magic, but they just knew. Somehow, someway, Donald Fauntleroy Duck made the photocopier explode from three rooms away.

He came home to his houseboat to find his three boys ( _Where’s Webby?_ he wondered briefly) sitting on the couch, hands folded on their laps as they looked up at him.

Something wasn’t right. They all looked so sad, so worried, so guilty. Donald felt terror flash through him- what happened? Was it Scrooge? Did something happen with Scrooge? If so, Donald was going to kill him-!

“Uncle Donald,” Huey started, getting the duck’s attention. “We need to talk.”

“What is it?” Donald asked, setting his folder on the table. He’d been too new to have a box of things yet. “Is something wrong? Are you okay? What-”

“We found your bedroom,” Louie interrupted, rubbing his arm guiltily.

Everything in Donald’s being froze. _Please, please don’t say-_

“We went in your closet.”

“O-Oh.”

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He had thought, after he left so abruptly without taking anything, it would have been Scrooge to discover the truth. Honestly, he had thought that was part of the reason Scrooge never even tried to make amends- he’d found out Donald was one of those people he hated most.

Scrooge hated magic... and his opinion of Donald wasn’t very high.

Seeing that his old bedroom had been completely walled over, he had thought the secret was safe. He should have known better.

“Did anyone know?” Dewey’s voice was quiet.

“Everyone who knew is gone,” Donald confessed, not taking his eyes off his folder. His heart was beating too hard. “Gladstone’s the only one left.” It didn’t matter which secret they were talking about- Gladstone knew about both of them. He was there when Donald discovered his magic, and he had walked in on Donald changing out of his costume with the telltale bruises on display.

“What happened to the others?”

“They’re gone.”

He didn’t want to say dead. It felt too final.

“Like mom?”

His breath caught. Shakily, he admitted, “She knew about the magic. Not about... not about-”

“Paperinik.”

“She didn’t like Paperinik. So I...”

“Never told her? But Uncle Gladstone-”

“Accident.”

A silence fell between them.

“What were their names?” Huey asked.

Donald didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to do this. He could feel it in his throat, the burning pain as he thought once more of everyone he lost.

His grip tightened on the table, and he hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed it.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he lied, and they knew he was lying. They could see the wet, glassy quality to his eyes, they knew it did matter. It mattered so much.

But they dropped it. They didn’t want to hurt their uncle.

“Why’d you stop?” was the last question they asked, and all Donald could do was look at them.

Their expressions told Donald they already knew why. Donald’s expression told them that they were right.

Donald quietly excused himself.

This was not how he expected that day to go.

* * *

It was a few months later, after everything had settled down, that he finally answered.

“Uno.”

The houseboat had been destroyed in Magica’s rampage, destroyed to save Scrooge. Donald had picked his staff up for the first time in a decade and fought against her, head to head and toe to toe under the darkness of the lunar eclipse. He was rusty, but he had his family there to help him.

His family and the memories of those he once had.

“My best friend’s name was Uno,” Donald told them, gazing out the window. Elsewhere in the house the sound of a hammer striking a wall echoed around, the only sign that the wall was falling and Donald’s room was his again. “He wasn’t the one who made me Paperinik, but he helped me after we met, despite us being complete strangers, and gave me a place I could feel safe in. He was more a tech guy than a sidekick, but I don’t think I’d have made it through half the things I did without him there to help. He died before I could tell him I’m a sorcerer.

“Lyla. She was a good friend, too,” he barreled on before they could comment, not tearing his eyes away from the rolling horizon. “She helped me more times than I could count. If Uno’s the tech guy then she’d probably have been the sidekick, but she’d have kicked my tailfeathers if I had to go toe to toe with her. She had to leave. I’m sure she knew about my magic, but I never told her anyway.

“Stefan. Or Camera Nine, depending on who you ask. He was a good fellow. Real quiet. He liked to take in the little moments. Real fun-loving guy, but was overlooked a lot. Kinda like me. He was trying to move on from his past. I don’t know where he went- last I heard from him was six years ago, and it was just a postcard in the mail. No address.

“Everett. You could say he was Uno’s dad,” though it was strange to think of it that way it was the only way Donald knew how to explain it without admitting Uno was an A.I. “After Uno died he kind of turned into a jerk- I mean, he turned into a jerk before Uno died, it was _why_ Uno died,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Everett was a good friend in the end, but Donald would never forgive him for that. “But he really was a good guy at heart. He just was a bit extreme. I have a feeling he knew what I was from the moment he met me, but I never asked. He went home and I haven’t heard from him since.

“Xadhoom. It was a nickname,” he quickly added, though he didn’t tell them her birth name. She ceased being Xado, after all, and refused to answer to it. “She was... passionate. She lost people really close to her and was out for revenge, but she was a good person still. I don’t think she believed in magic, so I never told her that part. She died to save a lot of people.

“My mentor.” This one hurt more than anything to admit. “He taught me everything he knew about magic, and led me in the right directions to further it. He was old and wise, just like all those cliche stories, and he was powerful. Kind. Always patient with me, never demanding more than I was capable of.” The old dog had taken him under his wing at the tender age of fourteen, despite Scrooge’s open dislike of all things magical. He had been like a second father to Donald, right behind Scrooge. “If he knew I was Paperinik, he didn’t say anything. Around twelve years ago there was a spike in underground witch hunts. I haven’t heard from him since.

“Odin.” Oh man, what could he say about Odin? Donald hardly knew anything about him himself, besides him being a famous inventor from the future. He laughed hollowly. “He knew everything, I swear. My identity, my magic- fitting, since he’s from the future and all. I did quite a bit of time travelling as Paperinik,” he added an explanation, though the kids had no intention of interrupting him right then. “He was always on my side, even when no one else was. I haven’t seen him since- well, about thirteen years I think, when time travel stopped working.

“You aren’t the biggest reason I left that life behind,” he finally said, turning to look at his boys. Webby was with them, but the lack of confusion told Donald she already knew what was going on. “The truth is, what happened with Della... it was the last straw. I lost a lot of people, kids. People I loved more than myself. I wanted to let it go. I wanted to let it go years before Della disappeared and gave me more reason to. You didn’t make me leave it behind. I left it behind because I wanted to.”

And sometimes, he longed for those days- binge watching Anxieties with Uno, going to the mall with Lyla, tormenting Angus with Cam9, fighting aliens with Xadhoom, practicing spells with his mentor, showing Gladstone the newest charm he’d learned...

Sometimes he wanted that back.

He couldn’t have that back.

They were gone, out of his reach, and he couldn’t get them back.

“So don’t blame yourselves, okay?”

The children all nodded before running off, leaving Donald to his memories.

He turned back to the window, his gaze trailing up to the sky.

The only one to blame was Donald.


	8. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huey counted the scars. Dewey made the connection. Louie saw the truth.

Huey counted the scars.

There were a lot of them, most of them hidden by feathers and only revealed when they ruffled, became disarrayed. Some of them were bad, though- unable to hide, lines of dark flesh streaking between his white feathers.

He didn’t know where they came from. They’d been there as long as the duckling could remember- the rare times they’d seen their guardian without a shirt baring them for he and his brothers to see.

Donald could never cover them up fast enough for them  _ not  _ to see.

They asked only once.

“Unca’ Donald, where did you get those scars?”

It was a question that never went answered. Donald just smiled sadly at them and said, “That’s a story for another time.” 

But  _ another time _ just never seemed to come.

A school project when they were ten led them to the discovery that their uncle had served in the navy- he was even decorated, too, considered a war hero for almost single-handedly saving his crew.

_ (“Uncle Donald did that?” “I find it hard to believe.” “It says it right here in black and white!”) _

They attributed the scars to his naval days. They were only partly correct.

* * *

Dewey didn’t make the connection between Uncle Donald’s adventures with Uncle Scrooge and his scars until he saw his guardian tending to a gash in his arm after they had returned from the Cavern of ShadowGlass.

His memory flashed back to the scars littering his uncle’s body, most so carefully hidden by his feathers but for those really bad ones under his shirt. He remembered running through a hall and pausing, watching as Mrs. Beakley carefully wrapped Uncle Donald’s hands up in bandages.

_ (“You shouldn’t have used a metal shield, Donald.” “It was the only thing that would work on short notice.” “Fire heats up metal. You could have burned yourself worse than this.” “I’ll take a thousand degree burn before letting Dewey get hurt.”) _

He thought back to the casino- how banged up Uncle Donald got in the race against Gladstone, his determination the only thing bringing him out on top. Briefly he felt a flash of anger, remembering the trick Scrooge had pulled, and he wondered just how common this had been.

“I think Uncle Donald got his scars from his adventures with Scrooge,” Dewey said without preamble to his brothers in the middle of the night.

Nothing but silence met his statement, though he knew they were awake.

In the silence echoed their understanding.

_ Nobody gets hurt today, _ Huey and Louie remembered their uncle saying before he fought Storkules.

Was getting hurt really so common?

Was that the real place their uncle got his scars?

“Maybe it’s both,” Huey answered the unvoiced question. “It would make sense.”

They all agreed, and none of them slept.

* * *

Louie was sprawled out in the street, staring up with wide eyes at the city’s infamous protector. Paperinik stood there, his shield held in front of him as he protected the young duckling from the villain’s ray gun.

The villain had targeted Louie because he was Scrooge McDuck’s nephew (or at least, that was what Louie had been told), and even after Uncle Donald had explicitly told him to  _ not _ leave the mansion, he stormed out after a fight with his brothers anyway.

The only problem was,  _ Uncle Donald _ was the one Louie had been followed by.  _ Not  _ Paperinik.

_ (“Louie, wait!” “Leave me alone!” But he hadn’t left Louie alone, instead walking with him in silence, and it had been comforting just knowing Uncle Donald was there for him.) _

It had been shocking, when they were cornered in the abandoned side of town. Louie ended up falling down when Uncle Donald pushed him out of the way of a blast, and he had turned to look at their assailant just in time to watch his uncle step between them and Louie, raise his arm-

And then Paperinik was standing there, the shield materializing and the suit seeming to wrap around him.

Their assailant did not look surprised at all.

It was that moment that Louie realized the real reason he had been targeted.

His uncle was Paperinik.

The fight wasn’t easy- Uncle Donald- Paperinik?- didn’t address Louie basically at all except to tell him to get to safety. He spoke mostly to his opponent and someone he called  _ Uno, _ and Louie heard a voice responding from the shield.

Louie dove behind a nearby dumpster and peeked out nervously as his uncle fought.

Paperinik took a few hits, at least one of them slicing through his suit to leave a deep cut in his side, but the hero- his uncle- seemed unfazed aside from taking a moment to grimace, and before too long the assailant was downed.

It was with a shock that Louie realized it was a robot, and he watched as the shield seemed to connect itself to it.

_ “There, the memory bank with your identity has been wiped,” _ that voice from his uncle’s shield announced.  _ “Now, you should come back to the Tower so we can fix that gash.” _

“Louie,” Donald- Paperinik- called, turning around. His side was covered in blood by now, and Louie hesitantly creeped out, eyes on the injury.

He knew, now, that  _ this  _ was the real reason his uncle had so many scars.

Later that night he confided the truth to his brothers and Webby, and they agreed that they could never tell anyone.


	9. Rodeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was far from Donald's first rodeo, but only Uno and Gladstone knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in my PKDT17 AU (the same universe "Drip... Drip..." takes place in).

This was far from Donald’s first rodeo.

“Faster! Faster, Uncle Donald!”

He gripped the steering wheel and pressed the pedal of his old 313 down, the little car speeding along the countryside dangerously fast.

“Donald, Kitty Wonder back there is gaining fast!”

The kids were screaming but not in excitement, and Uno sat in back with Gladstone, Webby and Huey sharing the seat between them while each adult held tightly to Dewey and Louie, respectively. Scrooge was in the front seat next to him, twisted around watching their pursuers.

“Where’s Launchpad when ye need him?!”

Donald glanced down at a button in his car. It was simply blue, standing out against the red of the rest of the car. It would be as simple as hitting that button, he knew- what better way to escape a pursuit on the ground than to fly away?

“Dee, do something!”

It would blow his secret.

They’d know he was Paperinik.

His gaze caught the rearview mirror. Both Uno and Gladstone were watching him, the most serious expressions he’d ever seen on their faces- and that was saying something, in Uno’s case.

His secret wasn’t worth his family’s lives.

“Donald,” Uno had to practically shout over the wind whipping past. He didn’t say anything else, though- Donald knew what he was saying.

His kids were crying, afraid, and the black vans behind them- lead by one claw-happy cat- only gained.

He didn’t know what they would do to his children.

Gritting his teeth, Donald suddenly turned the car- hitting the brake and skidding, causing everyone but himself and Uno to scream- and slammed his foot against the pedal again, eyes trained on the cliff in the distance.

“What in blazes are ye doing?!” Scrooge demanded, staring wide-eyed at the cliff ahead. “Donald-!”

“Just trust me!” Donald yelled, holding tight to the steering wheel to keep it steady over the uneven terrain.

“This isn’t an off-road vehicle!” Huey shrieked, grabbing onto Dewey’s hand.

“Yes it is!” It was Uno who responded, sounding almost gleeful, much to Donald’s annoyance. _“Very_ off-road!”

“Not funny!” Donald called back to the android.

“Donald, ye’ll drive us off the cliff, _turn!”_

Donald didn’t turn. Scrooge started to reach over, intending to take it into his own hands, but Donald was much stronger than Scrooge knew- he stayed steady, allowing Gladstone time to reach forward and pull their uncle away.

“Just trust him, Uncle Scrooge!”

Then the car barrelled off the cliff and over the open ocean, and Donald slammed down on the button as Scrooge and the children screamed.

The car fell only a short distance as it changed into the familiar flying car of Paperinik’s, updated but recognizable. And then it flew away from the cliffside as the black vans slammed on breaks.

Donald turned the car through the air, intending to get his kids and uncle back to McDuck Manor.

“We’re not dead?” Louie asked, voice trembling.

“Course not,” Gladstone laughed somewhat nervously, looking out at the sea below.

“This is...” Scrooge started slowly, eyes scanning over the changed car. He turned to look at Donald, but Donald kept his eyes stubbornly forward.

“This is the Duck Avenger’s car!” Dewey suddenly yelped, whipping around to look at Donald.

“Paperinik,” Donald and Uno both corrected in unison, already knowing it was a futile effort.

“Oh yeah,” Webby laughed, “Uncle Donald and Paperinik were really good friends! Why do you have Paperinik’s car, Uncle Donald?”

“This isn’t Paperinik’s car,” Scrooge growled, staring at Donald. “I kept this car in storage for years, I know it’s yours, Donald!”

“Can we talk about this later?” Donald asked, avoiding looking over at his uncle. “Like when we’re not fifty feet above the ocean?”

There was a beat of silence before Webby gasped in sudden realization. “Uncle Donald is Paperinik!”

Donald always knew his kids were too smart for their own good. No amount of denial would convince them he wasn’t, so he didn’t even try. Instead he simply said, “Yeah.”

Scrooge twisted around, eyes landing on Uno. “Ye knew about this, didn’t ye?!”

Donald could practically hear Uno’s shrug. “Knew about it? I’m his tech guy. His sidekick, so to say.”

“This explains a lot,” Scrooge muttered, turning the other way to look at Gladstone. “And ye! Ye’re not surprised at all.”

“Oh, I’ve known for months now. Since that trip to St. Canard.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?” Huey demanded, leaning forward. “You-”

“Not the time!” Donald interrupted, flashing an apologetic look into the rearview mirror. “I’ll explain everything later, I promise, let’s just get home. I need my shield if I’m gonna take out that sharptoothed brat.”

“No, it’s dangerous!” Scrooge immediately said.

“He’s been up against _aliens,_ Scrooge, don’t you remember?” Uno asked dryly, leaning back in his seat and watching the older duck. “He can handle himself against a mutated criminal. He’s _been_ PK this entire time, it’s always been him.”

“Can we _please_ talk about this later?” Donald all but begged, the mansion finally coming into sight. “I’m sorry I lied to you all, but you have to understand a hero’s secret identity is important!”

“... This is why Daisy Duck dumped you, huh?”


	10. Sail Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald wants to find somewhere he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was something I wrote as a reaction to the DT17 comics with Della....

The stars twinkled down at him whimsically, the moon a sliver against the almost-black of the night sky. The only sound was of the water lapping up against the side of the boat, the wind too soft- too gentle- to even make a sound at all.

He was alone. Completely and utterly alone, just him and the stars. Scrooge and Della had taken off on another adventure, this time leaving him behind- by Donald’s choice, not theirs.

He was tired. Tired of being used as a pack mule. Tired of being the guinea pig, tired of being the cannon fodder, tired of being pushed into things he didn’t want-

Tired of being ignored.

Don’t get him wrong- Donald  _ loved _ adventure. He loved the thrill, the epic (yet terrifying) battles, discovering new civilizations, learning dead languages, meeting literal gods, everything.

What he didn’t love was adventuring with Scrooge and Della.

He wasn’t part of the team. Not really. He was expendable, it felt. They didn’t really see him as an equal. It hurt.

When they went to South America and got separated, and he stumbled across Jose and Panchito- when they chose to go on a miniature adventure of their own... that had been fun. He’d felt loved. He’d felt respected. He felt trusted. He felt like a part of the team. They listened- they cared...

Ever since then, Donald had been seeing his adventures with his own family in a much different light. So this time, when Scrooge announced a new adventure...

Donald said no.

The fight had been ugly- Scrooge was angry that he didn’t want to go, and Della was upset. Donald stood firm, though- he didn’t want to be their cannon fodder.

Words were exchanged, words that couldn’t be taken back. Hurtful words from both sides, which led to Donald storming out and Scrooge and Della taking off a day early.

Donald knew he’d be the one apologizing when they returned. He’d meet them at the airport, hug Della and say,  _ “I’m sorry.” _ But it wasn’t right- it wasn’t fair. Donald had a right to say no. Scrooge needed to apologize just as much as Donald did.

He wouldn’t. Donald knew that.

Three days had passed. He took his boat out on the water- he was just barely in sight of the city- and just stared out over the ocean, considering everything.

In the distance, stars seemed to beckon him. 

He didn’t want to be here.

The realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks- he didn’t want to be here, at home, in Duckburg. He didn’t want to return to the manor.

This wasn’t home.

The duck almost wanted to cry- he’d known no other life, outside of adventuring the world and coming home to Duckburg. If this wasn’t home, though, then where was home?

He continued to stare out at the ocean. He felt a strange desire to just... follow that star on the horizon- follow it, and see where it would lead him.

His boat wasn’t the biggest boat, but it wasn’t small either. He had plenty of fresh water and food stored below deck, too... Clothes in the cabin, satellite phone in case of emergency, cell phone for when he reached land, fuel for the boat stored up too- and if the engine should fail, he had some sails, too. 

It was crazy. 

He didn’t care.

He wanted to find home.


	11. Simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a body for the first time, it's the little things Uno notices.

There was an almost uneasy peace in the silence of life, Uno discovered as he wandered the city for the very first time. Seeing it with two eyes, rather than hundreds of cameras and thousands of sensors, was different and almost intimidating.

Unable to hear the slightest shift in the electricity, unable to see the natural heat signatures given off by the people around him, unable to feel every atmospheric shift- it was new. It was frightening.

But with the absence of the intricate came the presence of the mundane.

Uno had never noticed it before- the wind through feathers, the chill of an overcast December night, the sound of the city living around yet apart from him... The simple lights shining onto the sidewalk- reds and yellows and whites and occasionally greens, from shops and cafes and restaurants. Laughter of a passing family. The shear joy, expressed not in the shift in body temperature and brainwave but in the simple turn of a lip, the way their eyes light up, how they toss their heads back, throw their arms around each other...

The stars were invisible over the lights of the city but the moon was visible, and he saw it without numerous thoughts and facts popping up, without analyses or concerns flashing across his processors and sensors.

The smells he previously could never pick up on were overwhelming. Perfumes and colognes and incense from a classy shop- candles hung up along the street, for the festival- food, strangely tantalizing, playing at his senses in a way he had never felt before...

The music blaring out for the festival- voices calling out, microphones amplifying their words- they landed on his sensors in ways they never had in the past. There was no analysis on intonation, or changes in pitch, or breakdowns of sentence structure to figure out every single double meaning behind every single word. It simply... was.

Despite being just an android, he was seeing- hearing- _feeling_ \- not like a computer, but like a person.

Everything was amazing.

He had never experienced life this way.

A voice rose above the rest- loud, almost indecipherable, so very familiar yet like hearing for the first time ever- and Uno felt a strange tightening in his chest. Had he a heart surely it would have begun racing. His stomach- synthetic and usable though he'd rather not- felt like it was twisting into knots, and his hands shook in a nervous excitement.

He couldn't help it. He began to hurry, ducking between people, eyes trained on the cluster of ducks that voice was coming from. He felt like he couldn't breathe- which was funny because his lungs, as synthetic as his stomach and every other organ he'd insisted on including because he wanted the whole experience of life and not just a computer's simulation, didn't even need air- and he was so afraid, yet so eager.

And then he saw him.

Donald was there, standing with his family. His nephews, his cousins, his uncles, and Uno didn't know any of them (or, more correctly, none of them knew him) but that didn't matter right then.

He opened his mouth, and he called out, “Donald!”

It was his voice, so obviously his voice. He could feel it in his throat, yet there was no tinny reverberations, it didn't feel like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once, it didn't echo with an otherworldly underlay, it was so human that Uno himself almost forgot it was still just a voicebox.

Yet Donald's reaction was instant. The anger he was directing at his annoyingly lucky cousin slipped away- and Uno saw it truly for the first time, saw the scowl slip away and his narrowed eyes widen as he turned slightly, blue meeting Uno's glowing green, and there is such shock and recognition and Uno knows Donald knows who he is.

The family turned to see this stranger, but Uno's attention was glued to Donald.

“Uno?!” Donald was so surprised, and the grin spreading across his face told Uno he was delighted. The duck didn't hesitate to break away from his family, practically running over to Uno, and Uno hardly had time to lift his arms before he was being swept up into Donald's embrace.

He laughed, more than happy to bury his face in Donald's feathers- and they were so soft to the touch, and smelled of sea salt (and he wasn't sure how he knew that but he was so sure of it) and spice- and he held on to Donald, for the first time truly feeling him in his arms, under his hands, and knew he wanted nothing more than this.

“Who are you?” Someone asked, Uno wasn't sure who but he had no intention of answering. They weren't Donald- they didn't matter right then.

“How?” Donald asked quietly, pulling away to look at Uno with an almost giddy light in his eyes.

Uno grinned back, unable to resist. “I'm full of surprises,” he told the duck, not protesting as Donald curiously ran a hand through his synthetic feathers. It felt nice, and Uno almost closed his eyes, reaching up to gently grab hold of the hand on his cheek.

The world continued on around them, and Donald's family stared at them, but Uno didn't care and neither did Donald seem to, as the duck finally- for the first time- pulled Uno into a kiss, and Uno more than happily leaned into it.

It was warm and soft and sent a feeling not unlike electricity through him, and for the first time he was sure everything was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And then Scrooge let out an unholy screech and brandished his cane like a weapon and proceeded to chase Uno and Donald through the festival because "MY NEPHEW" while HDLW, Gladstone, Fethry and Ludwig just watched in puzzlement.


	12. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uno is not human. Donald is. So stepping between Donald and a bullet seemed like the obvious choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Using the term "human" loosely here, obviously neither of them are HUMAN but you get the point
> 
> This was from a prompt, "You scared the shit out of me, I’m never gonna stop hugging you.”

“Uno!”

The droid didn’t pay his partner much attention, more focused on the sharp, irregular pain pulsing outwards across his chest. He’d never experienced such a sensation before- physical pain was something he wasn’t designed to feel- but he could only guess that that burning, ripping feeling as the bullet tore through the metal chestplate and lodged itself into his shoulder, tearing through wire and mechanisms, that rendered him mute was the closest thing he could get to it.

He felt his arm immediately deactivate- a security measure, so the wires would stop receiving electric current, he knew- and his legs gave out, sending Uno to his knees. His still-operational hand clamped over the bullet wound and he grimaced at the feeling of dented, shattered metal and torn fabric.

Blue fluid- coolant, environmental control, whichever you prefer- stained his clothes in the short half-second between the shot and the coolant tubes (so much like veins, he was sure Ducklair did that on purpose) sealing themselves off. A lot less messy than blood, but so much harder to hide than the shredded metal beneath his hand.

And so much better than seeing Donald covered in blood.

“What the-?” Glomgold sounded shocked, horrified, and Uno glared up at him, satisfied in how the failure of a duck stumbled back, the gun falling out of his hand.

Uno knew what this looked like. Glomgold had seen the opening- Uno yards away, Scrooge’s back turned, the kids being shepherded out by Gladstone, Launchpad in the plane above and Donald distracted- but Uno had been faster.

Too fast.

Just fast enough.

Uno had seen Glomgold start to raise the gun. A quick calculation told him exactly where he was most likely about to aim- and within a second he had jumped into action, crossing that distance at an inhuman speed, throwing himself between Donald and Glomgold just barely in time.

The blue staining his shirt and feathers spoke the truth for all of them to see. It told Glomgold exactly what had happened.

He wasn’t human. He was something else entirely.

And he was mad.

“Uno?!” There was a hand- soft, warm, concerned, he would recognize Donald’s touch anywhere- on his shoulder. Uno didn’t take his eyes off of Glomgold.

“Bad mistake,” Uno said, gently pushing Donald’s hand off of him as he stood up. The strange feeling faded and he dropped his hand to his side, willingly allowing the second richest duck in the world to see into the wound- blue coolant covering now-inactive wires and metal, the gears and joints beneath the exoskeleton and everything that came with being synthetic.

Glomgold realized about two seconds before that he had, in fact, made a terrible mistake.

Whatever Uno could have done, however, was unnecessary as Glomgold’s newest lackey seemed to realize the fight was over and jumped into action, flipping over to Glomgold and grabbing him.

“You haven’t seen the last of us!” She hissed, throwing down a smoke bomb that engulfed herself and her employer.

When the smoke cleared out Glomgold and his lackey were gone, leaving behind a deep silence that seemed to echo around the three ducks still stood there.

The silence didn’t last long. “You idiot!”

Uno almost lost his balance as Donald grabbed him, but he had no chance to respond before he was being whirled around, the duck in front of him almost panicking as he looked at Uno’s “injury.”

His arm was numb, his clothes ruined and his feathers stained with coolant, but whatever sensation he had first attributed to pain had passed so he gave his partner an assuring smile, hoping to calm the Duck.

Donald was not calmed by Uno’s smile, though. Scrooge just stared at them, every puzzle piece falling into place, and Donald pulled Uno closer to him, hugging him tightly.

“Donald?” Uno was confused. Donald hugged him a lot, sure- but he was trembling, his fingers twisting the fabric of Uno’s jacket. Donald was distressed.

Carefully, Uno began to push Donald away- so he could look at him and reassure him that it was okay, the danger was passed- but the duck was stubborn. He only held tighter when Uno tried.

“Donald, the danger is over,” Uno said, resting his functional arm across Donald’s back in a sort of pseudo-hug. “You can let go now.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Donald almost growled, very pointedly not letting go. “I’m never gonna stop hugging you.”

“What? Donald, that makes no sense-”

“You were shot!”

Oh. That was what he was distressed about.

“Better me than you,” he said, though it was clearly not the right thing to say. Donald pulled back just enough to glare up at him, and Uno reconsidered his words. “I can be fixed, Donald. You would have died.”

Donald’s glare didn’t soften.

Uno went through a list of responses. He had a feeling none of them would sit well with Donald.

Scrooge, surprisingly, was the one who came to his rescue. He walked over to the two ducks, saying, “Ye can berate him later, Donald, let’s just get tae the boys and get...” He seemed to hesitate, eyes flicking to the blue on Uno’s chest and shoulder. “Get him looked at.”

“I agree,” Uno said, though he hated to give anything Scrooge said merit. “Your nephews will worry if we take too long. Let’s go home, Donald.”

The duck seemed to hesitate before finally letting out a breath, giving in. He let go of Uno but stayed close even as the droid turned to follow Scrooge back to the plane, out of the valley.

Briefly he wondered what would happen, now the the truth was out.


	13. Fragility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald, like all living, breathing creatures, is fragile. Sometimes Uno forgets that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a oneshot prompt by an anon on tumblr, bold was the prompt quotes.

**“Why are you bleeding?”**

It was a stupid question. Uno never asked stupid questions. But he couldn’t help it as he caught Donald, carefully lowering him to the ground. Donald leaned against him, hand clamped over his side- but still Uno could see the stain spreading through his shirt and his feathers.

Uno felt numb. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t process what was happening. These things don’t happen to Donald Duck.

Sure, he got injured more times than Uno could count, but this- this never happened before.

Especially to Donald.

He wasn’t even Paperinik right now.

How did this happen?

He tried to review it- tried to pull it up in his memory- but it wouldn’t come to him. One moment they’re standing together, watching Donald’s uncle fight. The next Donald was collapsing into Uno’s arms, covered in blood.

Uno had a feeling this was his fault. Donald was beside him, and then in front of him.

Did Donald take a hit for him?

That made no logical sense. Uno was made of metal. It would have been more logical to let Uno take the hit- Uno could be repaired. Donald couldn’t.

“Donald?”

Donald blinked up at him, grimacing in pain. Through his feathers, Uno could see how pale he’d become. He was losing too much blood.

His systems seemed to catch up with him finally, alerting him that Donald was seriously injured- that the hit could prove to be fatal if not immediately dealt with.

The closest hospital was across the city. There was no way Uno could get him there in time.

He’d have to do something to at least buy time.

It was hard, though- he felt his hands trembling. The children were screaming, he could hear their feet as they ran over to him and Donald- but something stopped them, and Uno wasn’t sure if it was Launchpad and Beakley because children shouldn’t have to see their guardian, their family, bleeding out, shouldn’t have to see their guardian’s best friend covered in his blood-

Uno shoved the thoughts aside as Scrooge fell down onto the ground next to them, an unintelligible cry- probably in Gaelic, if Uno had to guess- escaping his throat. 

If Donald had any chance at surviving this, he had to keep a clear head.

It was hard, though- his hands trembled against his will even as he carefully laid Donald down and yanked his own coat off, not hesitating to rip the fabric- not a difficult feat for the android- for makeshift bandages. Donald’s life was much more important than some replaceable jacket.

“Help me,” Uno barked at Scrooge, and the old duck seemed to snap back into reality. The proud old Scotsman didn’t protest, instead helping Uno get the makeshift bandage around Donald’s abdomen, carefully pulling Donald’s hand away.

If Scrooge noticed Uno quietly freaking out inside, he didn’t say anything. Uno was grateful for that.

Donald was still awake, but no longer seemed aware of the pain. That was a blessing and a curse- a bad sign, but at least he wasn’t in pain… right?

“Uno…?”

He glanced up at Donald to find him gazing up at him again. “Yes, Donald?” he asked, allowing the duck’s uncle to hold pressure on the wound while someone behind them- Beakley, he knew, though he only paid them a fraction of his attention- called for emergency services.

“Y’know… we make a good team,” Donald murmured, eyes fluttering shut. Uno felt fear spike through him. “I’m gon’ miss it…”

“No,” Uno almost growled, turning back to applying more bandage- more pressure- would it be enough? Why couldn’t he hear an ambulance yet? At this rate it would be faster to take him to the hospital on foot! “You’re not going to miss it. You’re not going anywhere.”

Donald let out a breathless laugh and it metaphorically killed Uno. How could Donald be laughing at a time like this? “Gods, I love y’, Uno… Always so stubb’n, thinkin’ y… you can just… change nature…”

His words hardly registered with Uno- he’d have time to dwell on them later. “You’re not going to die,” he insisted, even though the situation looked grim. In the distance he finally heard the ambulance. There was a very slim chance they’d make it in time.

It was hurting- in his chest. It was a strange feeling, Uno wasn’t used to physical pain. He didn’t like it. Donald stared up at him, and Uno glanced at him again.

Donald looked too calm, too accepting. Behind himself, Uno could hear Donald’s kids crying. Scrooge had both hands pressed against the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, and his shoulders shook almost unnoticeably, head bowed and face hidden under the rim of his hat.

Uno’s vision blurred. Donald was dying. It was so obvious, but Uno didn’t- couldn’t- he wouldn’t give up. If he could keep Donald alive, awake and conscious long enough for the paramedics to get there, then there was a chance.

 **“Don’t die on me- please,”**  he quietly begged, watching as Donald weakly reached over and grabbed his hand. They were both covered in blood- much, too much blood. Uno was terribly afraid.

Beakley appeared, taking the remaining makeshift bandages from his free hand and continued helping Scrooge, while Uno focused on Donald.

“You can’t die,” Uno said, paying neither of the older ducks any attention.

Donald tried to say something but the words wouldn’t seem to form, so instead he just tried to give Uno a reassuring smile, as if everything would be alright. It turned out more like a grimace.

Then the ambulance was there and Uno was being pulled out of the way, able to do nothing but watch as his partner was taken away.

He was so afraid, all his senses seemed to have shut down. All he could do was hope.


	14. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With nothing left to stay for, Uno and Donald seriously consider their options when Uno makes a seemingly crazy suggestion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tumblr prompt!

**“Let’s run away together.”  
**

Startled, Donald turned to look at his friend. Uno’s eyes were still upturned, still on the stars, and there was no sign whatsoever that the android was joking.

“What?” Donald wasn’t sure he heard him right- run away?

Uno turned to look at Donald, an odd gleam in his eye. “We could go anywhere else and you’d be happier than you are here,” he said in simple explanation. “You won’t get dragged around by Scrooge or ignored by Della, or needlessly criticized or hated by this city’s people. We could go find somewhere new to call home- an adventure all our own, so to say.”

Donald hated that it actually sounded appealing to him- leaving the manor behind, leaving these forced adventures behind, the favouritism, the being-shoved-in-portals, the arguments and fights… Honestly, getting chased by the police right after defeating a mutant or an alien was getting old, too.

“You haven’t been happy in a long time,” Uno said softly, watching Donald earnestly. Uno had never liked Donald’s family, even a few months ago when he was trapped in the tower, and Scrooge wasn’t fond of him either now that they’d met face to face.

If Scrooge and Della hadn’t gone on an adventure following that disastrous fight with Scrooge a few nights ago, Uno wouldn’t have been there on Donald’s balcony that night. Scrooge would never have allowed him past the gate, not after finding out they weren’t exactly  _just_  friends.

(Not that Scrooge had anything against the idea of Donald dating another man- Scrooge just didn’t like Uno and Donald knew it, and the idea that Donald had been seeing Uno for who knew how long behind everyone’s back made the old duck angry. Later in life Donald would wonder if it had been a protective instinct flaring up- Scrooge still saw him as that awkward but energetic child he used to be, rather than the twenty-three year old duck he now was. If he knew the full truth of the matter, Donald wouldn’t put it past the old duck to ground him for life.)

“Where would we go?” Donald finally asked, knowing if he chose to leave Scrooge and Della couldn’t stop him. He wasn’t a child anymore- he was an adult, and he knew more about the real world than Scrooge or Della thought he did.

“Anywhere,” Uno shrugged, seeming unsure himself as he turned his gaze back over the ocean to the darkened horizon. “Just- you know, away from here. Somewhere you can be what you want.”

“And we can be happy?”

“Exactly.” Uno gently nudged Donald’s arm, smiling slightly at him. “No more arguing or being told I’m tearing your family apart. Though, I guess running away would just confirm that fact in your uncle’s mind…”

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Donald said, stepping a little closer to Uno so their shoulders brushed against each other’s as they leaned against the balcony’s railing. “Would it be running away if I’m already twenty-three and not seventeen or something?”

“You still live in your guardian’s house and if we leave now it’d be without his knowledge, so I think it’d still count.”

Donald considered it for a moment, letting Uno entwine their fingers together. He watched their hands- Uno’s hands were more slender than his, fingers slightly longer, good for building things (so Uno claimed, anyway- Donald was still trying to convince Uno to try playing a piano), rather gentle hands especially for an android’s. It fit comfortably with Donald’s, and he felt happy for the first time in a long time.

He felt right.

“Okay,” he finally said, smiling slightly as he looked at Uno again. “Let’s go. It’s an adventure, yeah?”

And the best part, he thought as Uno smiled back at him with that almost michievous gleam in his eye, was that this was an adventure of his own choice.

He left a note.


End file.
